


Thirty-Six Hours

by lazarwolff



Series: Ammonite [2]
Category: Pacific Rim (Movies)
Genre: Class Differences, Cooking, Domestic Fluff, M/M, Trans Male Character, Travel
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-01-07
Updated: 2019-03-23
Packaged: 2019-10-06 05:38:26
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 10
Words: 5,649
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17339579
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/lazarwolff/pseuds/lazarwolff
Summary: Continuation of Saved The World, Etc. Hermann and Newt distract themselves from Internet ire through domestic projects.





	1. Chapter 1

“Ich hasse das,” Newton mutters, gesturing vaguely at the screen of his laptop. “They know I didn’t  _ ask  _ for a Nobel Prize, right?”

The headline is what Newton would call ‘concern-trolling’ in a more generous mood, ‘fucking bullshit’ when he’s closer to his current mood. ‘Is the Nobel Prize committee capitulating to hero worship and political correctness?’ asks the spurious byline. Hermann closes Newton’s laptop and kisses his temple.

“It is ridiculous to entertain the notion of you being an impostor in your field,” he reminds.

“It is weird how well you know what’s going on in my mind,” Newton says, and leans into Hermann. “Ghost Drift or am I just that transparent?”

“Completely transparent, darling.”

“If I was cis, straight, and fucking old this wouldn’t be a thing.”

“Precisely.”

The knot above the bridge of Newton’s nose doesn’t dissipate, but he does relax a little.

“Fuck it,” he says. “No more internet until we get to Stockholm. It’ll be good for my stunted millennial mind.”

“That’s thirty-six hours,” Hermann points out, eyebrow arching. “I’ll give you thirty-six minutes of no screen time.”

Newton grasps his chest with a laugh.

“You wound me Herms, like I’ve never gone  _ camping _ before. No wifi in Yosemite, dude. All I need is a thirty-six hour project, or a mission or something. Anything in your apartment need fixing?”

“If you think I’m going to let you tear up my flat so you can distract yourself from your compulsion to ‘go viral’...”

“I’ll cook dinner,” Newton says. “If you have anything in your pantry that’s not cans of soup. What’s with that? Didn’t you learn to cook for your huge family?”

“We had help,” Hermann admits, colouring a little when Newton wrinkles his entire face. “The children had to clean after!”

“It’s like you’re from another planet. What have you been doing since then?”

“Making do. Eating out,” Hermann says, and hides his face when he sees Newton’s expression. “Don’t you dare judge me. I have very few vices otherwise. I like going to restaurants.”

“I’m not judging you,” Newton says. “I’m just poor. Formerly. I used to be poor.”

Hermann knows this, even before their Drift he knew this. Newt has been alternately thrifty and extravagant in his spending, the mark of someone who doesn’t know what to do with newfound wealth, has never had occasion or opportunity to invest.

Hermann thinks about his savings account, only just realizes how much security and good fortune were required to have that much money he didn’t need to spend immediately or in an emergency. He wonders what their first argument about money is going to be like, decides he doesn’t want to think about it too much.

“So, seeing as you don’t have groceries, probably,” Newton says, and throws on his jacket. “I’m going to the supermarket to grab a couple things. What do you want to eat?”

“I’ll have whatever you make.”

“A very politic, and foolish answer.”

Newton kisses Hermann on the cheek and starts to hop into his shoes, before he’s out the door. Hermann counts to five, and Newton runs back in to grab his wallet.


	2. Chapter 2

Newt gets a whole chicken, a bunch of green onions, another bunch of green onions because they’re good to have, soup noodles and a variety of root vegetables. While he has a pretty advanced cooking repertoire, nothing beats the classics, and Uncle Illia’s Jewish penicillin is a classic.

He might be talking to himself a little bit while he walks home, because he hasn’t shook the feeling that he got when he saw a newspaper headline questioning the quality of his Nobel win, because truthfully he hasn’t stopped questioning it since he got the call, and talking it through sometimes quiets the nonstop monologue in his head. If people give him strange looks, well, he’s always got strange looks, so he doesn’t notice.

“And another thing, it’s not like I even knew my hat was in the ring,” he mutters while he knocks on Hermann’s door. “I was busy doing a little thing called  _ saving the world,  _ you know like when we were getting stomped by these huge monsters and shit…”

Hermann opens the door while Newt is in mid thought, and Newt feels his ears colour. It’s one thing when people on the street stare at him while he talks to himself, but it’s another when it’s someone whose opinion he cares about.

“I’m just,” he says, and  _ finally  _ peters out. “Sorry, I’m so weird. It’s that stupid  _ article  _ Hermann, it’s in my head and I don’t know why people don’t just do something else instead of…”

“I understand,” Hermann says. “And for the record, you’re no weirder now than what is baseline.”

“Aw, thanks for that,” Newt says, finds he means it. “I got chicken. I’m making soup.”

“That sounds lovely,” Hermann says, and wrinkles his nose when Newt walks in. “For god’s sake, shoes off! Whyever do Americans walk with their shoes on in their own homes?”

“Because it’s easier? Duh,” Newt says, but kicks off his shoes and throws them by the door. “You got a soup pot, right?”

“I did  _ somewhat  _ furnish my kitchen, yes,” Hermann says with a sniff, and Newt wants to kiss the guy’s nose, especially when it crinkles in indignation.

Hermann’s soup pot is actually a pan, with a wiggly plastic handle, but the chicken fits in it, and Newt covers it with water before setting it to boil.

“Just like that,” he says fondly. “Then we leave it for a couple hours. Did you know humans started raising chickens because we worshipped them?”

“And now we boil them. I wonder when we might boil other things we worship.”

“You’re such an atheist, it’s actually stunning.”

“I’m not an atheist. I just think if God is real, then he’s a real bastard,” Hermann says, and squints at Newt. “Besides, if it were the fashion, would  _ you  _ worship chickens?”

“Chickens are beautiful, friendly, and useful, and besides which, I love being in fashion, so yes,” Newt says, and Hermann scoffs. “Oh, sputtered like someone who’s never hugged a chicken.”

Hermann smiles, and Newt grins too, because he realizes they both have the same memory now of holding a chick carefully in both hands.


	3. Chapter 3

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> discussion of deadnames in this chapter. I tried to keep it light and fun, but I know I'm still on edge about that kind of thing.

Newton is puttering around in his kitchen, probably wreaking havoc in the seldom used room. Hermann takes the opportunity to check his tablet, because he has a stunted millennial mind as well. The constant news influx isn’t good for Newton at the moment, but Hermann is better at filtering this kind of information without taking it personally.

The first article that comes up when he google searches Newton is one which uses the name he was given at birth. Hermann’s brow contracts directly into his hairline; he was unaware that this is how far the conversation around the Nobel Prize had degraded.

‘What legacy awaits this iconoclast? Dr. Geiszler is undoubtedly brilliant,’ the article says, ‘though it is difficult to evaluate the career of a wunderkind as indecisive and almost scatterbrained as the latest Nobel Laureate for Medicine. The bioprinting project is just one of countless endeavours Geiszler is involved in, however peripherally. At current residing in Hong Kong, the site of the last Shatterdome, Geiszler is perhaps most closely associated with the field of kaijubiology, one which she more or less pioneered and which now has an uncertain future. The only thing to do now is to wait, and see what else can come from her Wonka mind.”

Hermann frowns, trying to remember how common the knowledge of Newton’s gender is outside the admittedly hermetic environment of the Hong Kong Shatterdome. Did Newton never bother coming out to the scientific community at large? Or is this article an exercise in wilful ignorance? The latter seems more likely. Hermann can’t imagine Newton not being out and proud, in the loudest and most undeniable sense.

“Hey, I’m also making cookies,” Newt says, plopping down beside Hermann and then pointing dramatically. “Is that your tablet, Doctor Gottlieb?”

“I never said I would go without my screens until Stockholm,” Hermann says smugly, “What kind of cookies?”

“The kind I eat by myself because you’re welching on a deal!”

“I’m not  _ welching,”  _ Hermann protests, and gets a kiss on the cheek before Newton plucks the tablet from his hands. “Hey!”

“Hay’s for horses,” Newt mutters, and quickly scrolls through the article Hermann was reading.

“They don’t call you Newton in that one.”

“Yeah,” Newton says, gives Hermann back his tablet. “Fuck ‘em. I am so past caring about that shit. People who deadname me look more and more foolish as the years go by.”

“Why did you choose Newton?”

“It’s kind of an in joke with me and my dad,” Newton says. “I guess he named me after Olivia Newton-John?  _ If Not For You _ was kind of his breakup album, because it’s dumb and pretty cheerful and that’s what he needed when Monica…  _ mom _ left him. Not really my taste, but whatever. When I came out, my dad was supportive, but he was pretty sure I was not an Oliver. I figured either Newton or John. We were both pretty happy with Newton, so it was like my dad still named me. Did you think I chose it for Isaac Newton?”

“I definitely thought Isaac Newton. The real story is better,” Hermann says.


	4. Chapter 4

Newt boils noodles, and puts them in their own bowl.

“I always add the noodles as I need them to broth,” he says to Hermann, while chopping green onions. “Otherwise they absorb all the broth and get mushy. Plus I can add as many or as few noodles as I like.”

Hermann nods, looking quite focused, as though he will have occasion to apply this knowledge later . Part of Newt wants to see Hermann trying to cook, but he might have the guy at a disadvantage. Perhaps another night, when they have more time and aren’t looking to get on a plane in the morning.

Newt breaks down a bit of the boiled chicken, putting a copious amount of breast in both their bowls with some noodles, then ladles broth until they are full to brimming, garnishing with green onion. The cookies finish in the oven, and he carefully takes them out so they can cool on the pan while they have dinner.

“Thank you, Newton,” Hermann says. “I have not had someone cook for me in a while.”

“Drift partners with benefits,” Newt jokes, and to his gratification, Hermann blushes. “Stick around, and maybe I’ll even teach you a thing or two.”

“I’d like that,” Hermann says, and they tuck in for a few minutes of silence, before Hermann points at Newt with his spoon. “Are you ready for the flight tomorrow?”

“I was going to wing it,” Newt mutters. “Getting ready to travel wigs me out so I just kinda, go in the morning?”

“Well, you are travelling with me,” Hermann says. “So you’re not going to do that this time.”

As it turns out, Hermann loves packing, which is great because Newt’s never been any good at that kind of prioritizing. He’s got their luggage figured out in a fraction of the time Newt would have taken, and is now sitting on the bed with their carry-ons and documentation.

“How many books do you actually think you’ll read on the flight?” Hermann asks, looking at the pile of them in Newt’s carry-on.

“It’s a twelve hour flight,” Newt says. “So ten?”

“You’re not going to be awake for all twelve of those hours,” Hermann reasons, and Newt can’t argue with that. His barrage of anti-nausea medications will probably put him under for the bulk of the flight.

“What if I want to read  _ one _ of these books, but can’t decide which one until I’m on the plane?” he says, and Hermann squints at him. “Cool cool, deciding now.”

He even chooses one of the lighter books.

“I’ve double checked,” Hermann says, and pulls out their documentation. “It looks as though our passports are in order, but the gender marker on yours…”

“Yeah,” Newt says, and sighs. He never got that fixed stateside. “I won’t bind for the airport then. Best not to wear the binder for the entire flight anyways.”

“We can pack it in the carry on, now that you don’t have your entire library coming with you.”

It’s kind of great to be dating a commonsense filter like Hermann, who seems to relish the logistics of travel. Hermann Gottlieb, PhD, has already vaulted over ten or so obstacles that would have had Newt cancel his flight altogether. And that’s what  _ ten years  _ of experience in the field of mathematics can get you.

“That seems like everything,” Hermann says. “We’re in first class, courtesy of the Committee, so I will have leg room. Both our alarms are set, and the hotel is sending a car. I can’t think of anything else.”

He looks at Newt expectantly, like Newt has got anything to add.

“I love you for dealing with this,” he says. “Let’s eat like ten cookies apiece and go to bed.”


	5. Chapter 5

Hermann has never cared very much for travelling, but the discomfort he associates with it is nothing compared to how keyed up Newton is. He’s wearing his baggiest hoodie over a sports bra and band shirt, and has never looked more uncomfortable.

“Relax,” Hermann says, squeezing Newton’s hand with a little smile. “We’re nearly on the plane.”

“I know, but I mean,” Newton puffs out his cheeks, and laughs awkwardly. “My mind is going a billion miles an hour, man, I’ve got the buffet of airplane inconveniences and mishaps up in here and I’m ready for the soup course.”

“At least there’s no press,” Hermann says. He had prepared for that eventuality, but it seemed Hong Kong’s touch and go post-Kaiju infrastructure was enough to deter most international press.

“Wait ‘til we get to Stockholm. Kiera says that shit is bananas,” Newton says, and perks up when he hears their flight number on the intercom. “Thank god, we can board.”

He takes his medication once they’re on the flight, and pulls out his one book, before looking at Hermann.

“I should have packed my reader,” he says. Hermann shrugs.

“Too late now,” he says. “In any case, you’ll be drooling on my shoulder before we even leave the continent.”

“I don’t drool.”

“You do. It is very nearly endearing.”

“Great, so I’ll drool more.”

“Charming.”

“I know I am.”

The banter seems to put Newton in slightly better spirits, and he stretches in his seat before settling. Soon, the plane takes off, and Newton’s head is on Hermann’s shoulder not too long after that, book dangling from his fingers. Hermann takes the book in puts it on his own lap, and strokes Newton’s hair.

“Are you asleep?”

“Trying it,” Newt mumbles into Hermann’s shoulder. “Can you wake me up when they come by with the nuts or whatever?”

“I’ll just buy you some nuts and you can eat them when you wake up,” Hermann says.

“No dude, wake me up.”

Newton is definitely drifting off, and Hermann lets him, before putting in his headphones and seeing what the choices are for in-flight films. He hasn’t watched a newish movie in what feels like years. Maybe he can convince Newton to come with him to a proper cinema, where he hasn’t been since the start of the war. He chooses a period drama which promises to have him in tears at the forty-five minute mark, and settles in, stroking his sleeping boyfriend’s hair.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Small chapter is proof of life!


	6. Chapter 6

Newt wakes up from disconcerting dreams, finds he is being held and sits stalk straight before remembering.

“Where are we?” he mumbles to Hermann, who lets go of his hand and takes his earbuds out. He’s been watching a  _ Bridget Jones,  _ by the look of it, and his eyes are a little glassy, either from tears or the sheer duration of this plane ride.

“Still on the plane.”

“Ha _ ha _ , I mean are we over Europe yet?”

“Nearly.”

“Did I sleep for like six hours then?”

“Yes. I got you snacks. The stewardess wouldn’t let me pay, because I suppose saving the world has perks,” Hermann says, looking distinctly uncomfortable. “The gratitude is touching, but I hope she doesn’t get in trouble.”

“She won’t. I love that you think about things like that,” Newt says, means it. Hermann consistently vaults over society’s baseline for decency to other people, because deep down he’s a people person. He still has that wrinkle in his forehead that comes from worry, and Newt squeezes his shoulder. “I’ll pay for the snacks, if she’ll take my money over yours. Awww Japanese rice crackers! You’re the best.”

There’s a weird feeling in Newt’s gut that he maybe can’t force down with snacks, and he hopes it goes away once he’s on solid ground again. Either that or he’s finally on the downswing, just in time to receive the most important accolade someone in his field can possibly get, alongside researchers who were his surrogate parents while he was at MIT and his impossibly brilliant boyfriend, who is coming to this ceremony purely in the role of Supportive Boyfriend and not that of Esteemed Mathematician. Maybe it’s just dysphoria, wearing a sports bra in public and leaving Hong Kong and oversleeping. Maybe travelling just gets him in a weird headspace. Maybe.

Hermann’s hand has inched towards Newt’s again and Newt takes it, looking at Hermann, who is definitely crying about Bridget’s latest misadventures.

“What hold do these movies have on you?” Newt asks, and plucks an earbud from Hermann’s ear to listen to the dialogue with him. “We should go to a real movie theatre. For a date.”

“I was just thinking that,” Hermann says. “I don’t think I’ve been to the cinema since before the war.”

“No, me neither,” Newt says, frowns. “When  _ was  _ the last time I…? Maybe I wasn’t a doctor yet, dude, shit. Maybe my dad had to take me.”

“That can’t be right,” Hermann says, his frown matching Newt’s. “You’ve seen more movies than any five of my other acquaintances combined.”

“Well, yeah,” Newt says. But he still can’t remember seeing a movie in the theatres when he wasn’t a kid. “We’re definitely going though. Find a big romance if Hollywood is still making those. God I hope so.”

Hermann is stroking his hair again, and Newt wonders how he went a day, let alone years without this kind of constant input. And he knows Hermann craves touch, only initiates it with family and  _ him, Newton,  _ and it kind of makes Newt’s heart stutter to know it, know it intimately.

If everything else goes rotten, Newt hopes he can keep Hermann happy, keep him interested, keep him.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> We're slowly getting to Stockholm, but soon!!


	7. Chapter 7

Hermann notices Newton is becoming more and more subdued as the plane ride goes on, chalks it up to his reticence to travel. He goes to the washroom shortly before they land to bind and change into another shirt, and sits back down, looking out the window. The sun has been getting farther and farther away from them, and the landmass beneath them is dark except for city lights, nose nearly pressed up against the window.

“Is it okay if I hold your hand in public?” Newton asks all of a sudden.

“Of course,” Hermann says.

“Okay, because I know you, you don’t like…”

Newton trails off and blinks hard.

“Public displays like that,” he finishes. “And I’ve had people in the past who preferred less.... Less clingy Newt. Sorry, Hermann, I can’t word today.”

“It’s been a long day. We’ve crossed a continent.”

Hermann takes Newton’s hand with both of his, and Newton looks at him.

“I hardly think it is a display to hold the hand of the one you love,” he says, as the plane begins its descent.

“Oh fuck, the plane is going down,” Newton says with a deep breath, and Hermann squeezes his hand.

“All according to plan.”

“Yeah.”

Hermann doesn’t let go of his hand until they’re on the ground.

There is press at the terminal, and Newton is a good enough sport that he answers some of their questions. People notice Hermann and ask him questions as well, but he’s not as gracious, and in any case Newton has just spotted the Augustines and is making a beeline to them.

Kiera Augustine is a kind-eyed woman with dreadlocks tied in a large bun, and even at his height Newton towers over her, engulfs her in a hug that sets the cameras around them flashing. Harold smiles widely and whispers something into Newton’s ear that sets him laughing, and then he pulls them both to Hermann.

“Are you hungry?” he asks. Hermann thinks to his dinner, taken in the air, and concedes he could eat.

“Wonderful, Harry and Kiera have invited us. Uh, this is Harry and Kiera by the way,” Newton says, with an abashed hand running through his hair.

“Do you do hugs?” Kiera asks, as Hermann holds out a hand.

“Not immediately,” Hermann says, and they shake. “It is a pleasure to meet you both. I am Doctor Hermann Gottlieb.”

“Oh, we know who you are,” Harold says. “Newt talks about you constantly.”

“Mostly good things,” Kiera adds, and Hermann smiles at Newton’s nervous, giddy laugh.

“I missed you guys, we need to leave so we can catch up,” he says, and grabs Hermann’s hand. “Let’s find our luggage.”

Their luggage stowed at the hotel, they all four of them are at the hotel’s restaurant, and Hermann supposes this what a double date is. Kiera and Harold are still very much in love, trying each other’s drink and finishing each other’s sentences. Hermann briefly wonders how strong their Drift compatibility would be.

“He’s wondering if you could pilot a Jaeger,” Newton says, breaking through Hermann’s reverie. “He gets this look in his eye and starts calculating.”

“I don’t do it often enough that you can tell, surely,” Hermann says, his cheeks reddening.

“Every time you watch a rom com or see two people on a date.”

“I do not!”

“You’re a romantic,” Harold says, raising his glass. “Cheers to that. We were a little worried Newt had fallen in love with an automaton.”

“Of course, then we read your monographs and knew that couldn’t be the case,” Kiera says, and Hermann gets even redder.

“You read my monographs?” he repeats. “I’m flattered. I know it isn’t your field.”

“Didn’t matter, you have a way with words.”

Newton this time, and he’s laid his hand over Hermann’s.

“That’s how you made me fall in love with you.”

Hermann gets lost for a moment in Newton’s eyes.  _ That long?  _ he wants to ask, but his mouth is dry and Newt’s hand almost seems to answer. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The Augustines are my favourite OCs. Regina King is a good faceclaim for Kiera and Michael Stuhlbarg is Harold.


	8. Chapter 8

Newt is only realizing now how much he’s missed the Augustines. It feels like a lifetime since he was able to sit with them, and it’s like serotonin has been dumped directly into his brain, because even though he’s tired, in a dark, cold country, and kind of wigged out, he couldn’t be happier.

“So,” Kiera says, ruffling Newt’s hair. “How are you both holding up? After the war?”

“It’s a lot,” Newt says and feels Hermann nod beside him. “A lot of change. I don’t know what I’m going to do next. Maybe follow Hermann. Maybe stay in Hong Kong.”

“I hope you know that you’ve earned a rest,” Harold says. “Both of you. Hermann, if you’re anything like Newt, you’re probably thinking about the next thing, but it’s been a long few years.”

“I’m looking forward to a respite,” Hermann says, and Newt looks at him.

“Really? I thought you were going to get a job at King’s College or something.”

“I haven’t had a compelling enough offer from them yet. I would rather stay with you.”

That must be a straight lie, but Newt’s heart feels like a cookie fresh from the oven when Hermann says this.

“You’re staying in Hong Kong, then?” Harold says. Newt nods and rattles his fork against his plate nervously.

“I hope you’re not disappointed or…” he starts, but Kiera shakes her head.

“How could we be disappointed in you, Newt? After everything,  _ everything _ you’ve done,” she says gently. “You have the right to live where you please, do as you will with your gifts. You always had that right, and you spent a great many years of your life trying to help.”

“Succeeding,” Hermann adds, and Newt looks at him. “Well, we saved the world, Newton. Being a bigger help is hard. And the Augustine laser has already changed lives. Mine, for one.”

Newt knows this, knows that the Augustine laser was able to replace deadened nerve endings in Hermann’s bad leg, but never really put two and two together.

“I didn’t realize you’ve benefited from the treatment already,” Kiera says.

“Yes, I was part of the trials for people with multiple sclerosis in England,” Hermann explains. “I couldn’t scale a ladder before. Now I seek out the opportunity.”

“It’s true, he has a gigantic chalkboard at the Shatterdome with like, a  _ Beauty and the Beast  _ ladder,” Newt chimes in. “And he won’t let me use it ever.”

Hermann fixes him with a stern glance.

“What possible need do you have for the chalkboard? You take all your notes on tape.”

“I’m a visual learner. I need the  _ cues. _ Anyway, I can’t draw comics on tape,” Newt says and pulls out his phone to show Kiera and Harold. “Comics like this!”

“This is a kaiju explaining how the Breach works,” Harold says after he puts on his reading glasses.

“Yeah! Five thousand likes on the ‘Dome’s Instagram,” Newt grins, and Hermann rolls his eyes.

“You were obsessed with running that bloody Instagram.”

“Gotta reach out to the youth when you’re in STEM, Hermann.”

Hermann looks like he wants to get into an argument, but they are saved by their food coming. While Newt considers himself a good cook, he hasn’t eaten out in ages, and food always tastes better when someone else has made it anyway. Kiera and Harold start monopolizing the conversation, which is fine by Newt because he misses hearing them talk; long distance phone calls weren’t enough. Then Harold ropes Hermann into a discussion about Emily Dickinson, and it’s Newt and Kiera.

“You look good,” Newt says. “I was… worried about you guys. I know Boston was safe, relatively, but you know I can’t help but worry.”

“ _ You  _ were worried!” Kiera laughs heartily. “Me and Harold were warm and dry these last few years, and you’re skirting the coastline of the Pacific Rim, up to your shoulders in poisonous kaiju viscera…”

Newt laughs sheepishly, just as Harold pulls out his phone.

“Here he is when he got his first degree,” he says to Hermann and shows a picture where a fresh-faced Newt (two months on T? Newt's brain supplies) is beaming, Kiera’s arm slung around him and looking like a bar mitzvah boy. Newt feels his ears turn red and he turns away.

“My god, Newton, you are positively adorable,” Hermann says affectionately.”Do you have any other pictures of Newton as a child? Please tell me you do.”

“Not fair, I want to see pictures of you as well,” Newt says.

“As you know, I’ve always looked like this,” Hermann says with such a straight face it takes a minute for Newt to realize he’s joking.

A bottle of champagne arrives for them in a bucket of ice, compliments of a neighbouring table, who raise their glasses when Newt looks over. It’s weird to be recognized, especially when most days Newt has trouble with his reflection.


	9. Chapter 9

They’re back in their hotel room not too long after dinner, Newton’s eyes barely open. Hermann is beginning to feel the jetlag as well, tries not to think about what the sunrise must look like in Hong Kong.

“So tired,” Newton mumbles, looks up when Hermann strokes his cheek.

“Sweetheart, you need to change,” he says through a yawn, and loosens his tie. “You’re still binding.”

“Yeah yeah.”

Newton takes five minutes to wiggle out of his binder, and he doesn’t bother with a shirt after that, instead laying his head on Hermann’s shoulder and then pulling them both down into the terribly soft bed. They stay like that for a moment before Newt sits up like a shot.

“You comfortable?” he says. “Do you need more pillows for your leg?”

“More pillows would be nice.”

Newton gets up to retrieve pillows from the front closet, and Hermann watches him with a fond smile he only realizes he has on his face when Newt smiles back.

“Let me,” he says, and presses a gentle kiss to Hermann’s knee before he starts strategically piling pillows the way he’s seen Hermann do it. Nobody’s ever done this for him, nobody could be as pleased to do it as Newton, whose flitting happiness lands squarely in Hermann’s cerebral cortex.

“Thank you,” Hermann says, aware his voice is hoarse.

“No problem, buddy,” Newton says, and flops down beside Hermann again. Hermann grimaces.

“ _ Buddy _ ?”

“Lover,” Newton corrects. “Partner? Soulmate.”

“My name would suffice.”

“It  _ would,”  _ Newton concedes, and his hand butterflies across Hermann’s chest. “But you’re with me now,  _ Hermann,  _ so get ready for about ten thousand alternate classifications.”

“I’m with you,” Hermann repeats like it’s just come together. He can feel something deep in him break, and Newton’s smile falters.

“I didn’t mean to make you…”

“You didn’t make me cry,” Hermann promises, hastily wiping away the tears. “I suppose there were possibilities I had ruled out for myself, and it’s nice to be proven wrong now and again. Even by you.”

“Especially by me, you mean,” Newton says, and presses himself closer to Hermann, if that’s even possible. “It is my pleasure to prove you wrong. I’ve only been trying to do it for ten years or something.”

“Savour it,” Hermann smiles, kisses Newton’s nose. “It will never happen again.”


	10. Chapter 10

“Don’t let me embarrass myself,” Newt says quietly, while Hermann ties his tie. Hermann’s eyebrows raise in a sardonic quirk, and he looks up from his work.

“You know I don’t let you do anything,” he says, and the unexpected joke makes Newt ugly laugh. “There, all done. You look very handsome.”

“You’re biased,” Newt grins.

“Maybe so.”

And anyway, it’s Hermann who’s cleaned up shockingly well, Newt figures. Something to do with the star cufflinks and the matching earrings (he has his ears pierced, how did Newt literally never notice this?), or the actually tailored suit.

“Stop staring.”

“Can I just say?” Newt stutters. “Where were you hiding all of this in the last decade or so? And  _ why _ ?”

“Well, there was a war on,” Hermann says, as if that explains anything, and starts folding Newt’s pocket square. “I needed to dampen my natural wiles if you were to get any work done, Newton.”

“Straight up, that’s a war crime. I wouldn’t have been distracted, much,” Newt says. “Did you always have your ears pierced? Or is that new? Can I buy you earrings?”

“As long as they’re solid gold. I have an allergy to lesser metals.”

“Jesus, okay. Solid gold earrings for my boyfriend. I’ll melt down the Nobel, just to keep you shiny. That would be a better use for it.”

“None of that, sweetheart,” Hermann scolds, kisses Newt’s cheek. “You’re perfect now. Let’s go. They sent a car.”

“You gave me a tie bar,” Newt says, looking in the mirror. The tie bar is bookended by little golden stars which echo the ones in Hermann’s ears and on his cuffs. “Oh shit, we match!”

“You like it.”

“Of course I like it.”

Newt’s heart feels full from even a small gesture like this one. He’s stupid in love, isn’t he?

The car hired for them is not too ostentatious, but there is a driver with gloves who opens the door for them, like Newt hasn’t put his hands on less savoury things over the past four years. Hermann takes Newt’s hand as soon as they’re in the car, like Newt isn’t wearing his jewelry and doesn’t stare at Dr. Gottlieb completely moon-eyed even though people are watching.

“You don’t have to let go,” Hermann says. “Not until you’re onstage.”

_ That’s going to be the problem, _ Newt thinks but doesn’t say. Hermann seems to read his thoughts, and strokes the back of his hand.

“I’ll be right there. If you get overwhelmed, all you have to do is find me.”

“Yeah, you’ve always been  _ such _ a stabilizing influence on me,” Newt says with a roll of his eyes, stops midroll when Hermann leans in to kiss him. He kisses back, and the undercurrent of terror he’s been lowkey battling this entire day seems to ebb somewhat. Hermann pulls away. “You know you’re like the best known kisser in the galaxy?”

“What an achievement,” Hermann smiles, eyes crinkling in that way Newt loves. “I don’t know what to say. What was the metric used to determine…?”

“Nerd!”

Newt laughs, just as the car stops in front of the venue.

“Oh shit, this is it,” he says, and turns back to Hermann. “You didn’t mess up my tie, did you?”

Hermann straightens out his lapels, needlessly, and his fingers linger on the juncture between Newt’s shoulder and neck.

“Are you ready?” he asks.

“No, but no delaying the inevitable,” Newt sighs, and opens the door before their driver can get out and do it for him. The chain of camera flashes he causes coming out of the car makes him blink.  _ Okay, don’t make a stupid face, you can’t become a meme tonight,  _ he thinks, and waits for Hermann before the handler they’ve been attached to can whisk them away to the inside.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> frawgkid.tumblr.com is where i'm on 24h newmann/dino/nature lockdown


End file.
